


Sometimes Fate Decides

by MissandMarauder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, HEA, Weasley twins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:51:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12251064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissandMarauder/pseuds/MissandMarauder
Summary: The Weasley twins both fancy the same bird. Fate steps in to help her decide.





	Sometimes Fate Decides

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mahawna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mahawna/gifts).



> Birthday gift fic for my girl, Mahawna! She is the genius that betas the vast majority of my work. Happy birthday, love!
> 
> This is being posted without being beta'd, so any and all mistakes are mine. Hopefully, you still enjoy it. :)

The only thing the Weasley twins ever truly fought over was a girl.

Not just any girl, oh no. She was Hermione Jean Granger, brightest witch of her age, best friend of the Boy Who Lived, and unrequited love interest of their little brother, who would forever be 'ickle Ronniekins' in their eyes.

The arguments started out in good fun, usually after they'd gotten her so riled up with their mischief-making that sparks shot from the tips of her hair in all her righteous, prefect-ly indignation. There was just something about the little witch when she got angry. The flush to her cheeks, the way she bit her lip, the hand delved into her riotous chestnut curls…It was enough to drive any bloke barmy.

But the twins were not just any blokes. They were two very similar young men with appallingly similar taste in birds. The arguments turned from teasing over which of them Granger hated more (a good thing in the twisted mind of a teenage boy) to which of them should be allowed to have a go at her. The first few Hogsmeade trips of their final year at school were painful, stilted affairs where they both agreed to go with a different girl or alone to save their relationship, for no girl could be worth ruining what they had, right?

But then the DA started up, and they were goners. There was something about watching a powerful witch who knew what she was doing with a wand that made a bloke weak in the knees.

They may or may not have both thought of her when they managed to each cast their first corporeal Patronus.

Umbridge managed to squeeze every drop of fun from what was supposed to be their amazing last year at Hogwarts. Instead of completing their N.E.W.T.s, as they'd planned to do to appease their mother, they started drawing up plans to go out with a bang.

When the final fireworks fizzled out in the Great Hall, Hermione stood stock still in the midst of the surrounding chaos, grasping two slips of parchment that a particularly tiny firework had released onto her desk while everyone else was distracted by the fantastic display of pyrotechnics ablaze in the air above them.

The twins were gone, well on their way to Ottery St Catchpole or Diagon Alley or wherever they were headed after their dramatic exit, leaving only two tiny reminders - and a whole lot of destruction - that they'd been there mere moments before.

One read:

_Go out with me? -George_

The other said:

_I'm much better looking, you know. Go out with me instead? -Fred_

As if the notes had turned her to stone, her mouth was frozen in a gasp, hands raised close enough that she could read the tiny, not-quite-identical scrawl. She'd never, in a million years, suspected that the infamous pranksters could have any sort of feelings for her - aside from perhaps annoyance at her constant foiling of their plans.

Ron came over to see what had Hermione distracted from the celebration everyone else was enjoying, grin crinkling his eyes and showing off his teeth. She'd always been fond of his looks, which she now realised with a jolt were so like his brothers', just a little younger and lankier and a tad less mischievous.

Shaking the whole ordeal off as more of Fred and George's nonsense, she pocketed the notes and returned Ron's smile.

"I know you don't always like Fred and George's stuff, but you've got to admit... _that_  was bloody brilliant," Ron said, admiration for his brothers shining in his sky-blue eyes.

Nodding woodenly, still feeling adrift in this world where she wasn't quite sure of anything anymore, Hermione could only manage, "Can't argue with you on that one."

XxxX

The Horcrux hunt had taken its toll on Harry and his friends. Hermione, in particular, had been hurt by the way Ron had left the two of them when the burden of the locket had weighed too heavy on his soul.

She and Harry danced and cuddled and wished for better days beyond the endless hunger and loneliness they shared, just the two of them on an impossible journey to save the world.

But they weren't completely alone.

Ginny and Neville were doing what they could at Hogwarts. Hermione hoped they were safe, glancing occasionally at the Marauders' Map when Harry wasn't using it for his nightly routine of Ginny-watching.

She thought it was a bit creepy, really, but who was she to judge?

Her feelings were tangled up between two boys, utterly impossible and far away and not at all hers. She still had the notes they'd left her in fifth year, tucked away in her copy of Hogwarts a History. Occasionally, when the heaviness of all they were meant to do weighed too heavy on her narrow shoulders, she pulled them out and allowed herself a small smile as she thought of one day taking them up on their offer.

Who knew if they even still felt that way? It was nice to dream about, though.

On the nights that the twins took their turn on Potterwatch, Hermione was surprised by how much better she felt to know they were alright. Guilt overwhelmed her when she realised that all the people who were important to her were still alive and well, assuming Ron was still okay wherever he'd run off to.

The foreboding fog of the war always seeped into those thoughts, and she couldn't shake the fear that she would lose someone before the end had come.

XxxX

In the moments before his twin was torn from the world, George fought back to back with his brother, egging on Death Eaters and throwing shop products left and right to cause distractions and hopefully allow them both to make it out alive.

When Dolohov had come around the corner, shouting a curse in Russian, George's stomach sunk low in his gut, and he threw out his arm, sending up the strongest shield he could manage. The curse continued past him, hitting the wall above the twins' heads. Fred spun around at the sound, but his reflexes weren't fast enough to put up a shield before the wall fell on top of him. George watched in horror as the rubble streamed off his own shield, the protection stopping just a few feet short of Fred's body. The older twin crumpled to the floor, not even making a sound as he fell.

George released his shield as soon as the avalanche of stones slowed, scrambling forward on shaking legs to find his twin amidst the rubble. It took him a long moment of hurling stones away to remember that he was a wizard. He whipped his wand back out so quickly that he nearly broke it. Levitating the stones off in piles, he was oblivious to the tears streaming down his face. His chest ached with a severity that made him feel like he was similarly trapped in stone, and the feeling did not improve as the weight on his brother's body lessened.

Panting with the force of his efforts to unearth his twin, he knelt beside Fred and cupped his face between both hands.

"Forge! Oh, Merlin, please be okay! You can't leave me here alone." George had never heard his own voice sound so broken, and the despair there, combined with the total stillness of Fred's body, made the outcome suddenly all too real.

But George didn't have time to mourn. Another curse flew past them, narrowly missing his shoulder, and George turned to face his opponents, freshly fuelled with the loss of the one person in the world he couldn't bear to live without. The pain was quickly consumed by fury as George hurled hexes and curses at his opponents, half blind from the tears that fell unchecked.

He didn't much care if he lived through this war anymore, but he sure as hell would avenge his brother.

XxxX

The aftermath of the battle was surreal. Hermione eyed the Weasleys warily, wanting to offer some comfort but doubting she would be welcome after the awkward victory kiss she'd shared with Ron and the death of someone she'd never thought to give the time of day to until it was too late.

And there sat George, one of the only lights on the dark nights in the Forest of Dean, his face crumpled in agony as he looked at his brother's fallen form.

It would be selfish to expect any of them to pay her any attention at all, so she let Harry go to them, hugging Ginny tight as they all mourned together.

Hermione put herself to work, helping pass out potions and perform standard healing charms as directed by Madam Pomfrey.

She didn't see the watery, blue gaze that watched her back as she worked or sense the thoughts George had that she might be worth sticking around for.

XxxX

That night, everyone went home to the Burrow. Even Percy, Bill, and Charlie, who hadn't called the ramshackle house 'home' in months, wordlessly agreed that they would not leave their family in this time of need.

All of George's brothers, and even Ginny, offered to sleep in George's room with him. When that offer caused a look of panic in his eyes, Bill assured him that they could sleep on the floor. No one needed to touch a single thing of Fred's. The memories could remain, exactly as the deceased twin had left them.

George adamantly refused, saying he just wanted to sleep, not endure his family's endless fussing. He took the longest, hottest shower he could manage, scrubbing the dirt and blood from his body until every inch of skin burned but was finally clean. He wrapped a towel firmly about his waist, left the steamy bathroom behind, and finally opened the door to their room. His swollen eyes were stuck at half mast, so he blindly walked on autopilot to the dresser, pulling out clothes and getting dressed.

When he turned to crawl under the covers, a strange glow emanated from the other bed. He'd never been so exhausted, and he was probably still in shock, so he figured it was a hallucination. Wishing his overwrought brain would just shut up and sleep, he trudged over to Fred's bed and whipped back the covers.

"Oi! Took you long enough!"

George's heart stopped. Then it played an entire Quidditch match in the space of an instant. Then it stopped again, an anvil in his chest. "F-Fred?"

For there he was, in all his ghostly glory, laying in his bed as if he'd never left with a grin the size of Jupiter on his face. "You must be getting slow in your old age, Gred! Luckily, I had the good sense to pass on before I, too, became senile." The familiar glint of mischief shone in his eye as he sprang out of bed.

Tears were flooding George's vision once more, and he dug his nails into his palms to stop himself from hugging the apparition - or hallucination - of his twin. Either way, he wouldn't be able to give him a proper hug, and not being able to do so was a sight better than attempting and having his arms fly through the gossamer fog that made up his brother.

"No, none of that now! No crying for old Fred. I've come to give you a message. Now sit down like a good boy and we'll talk."

That got a tiny smile out of George. Fred knew he was a sucker for a good impersonation of their mother. Some things never changed.

"Why are you still here? I would have thought you'd have gone on, like the others." His heart felt heavy again at the reminder of everyone they'd lost that day, but he tried to keep his spirit light enough to listen.

"It's about our girl, Georgie! Don't tell me you've forgotten our deal? We both ask, wait for her answer -"

"-And may the best man win," George finished, a wry grin on his face from the memory of their agreement the night before they'd left Hogwarts. "She never said a word, Fred. What makes you think she's even still interested?"

Fred tapped a pale finger to his chest, shrugging. "Just a feeling. Nice night out, tonight."

Confused by the change in topic that had been abrupt even by Fred's standards, George went over to the window.

Outside, in the garden, stood a lone figure. With wild bushy curls billowing out around her at every turn, she paced. The twin's room was too high up to hear her, but George suspected she was muttering to herself. He turned back to spare a glance at his twin, worrying at every moment that it might be his last. "What's she found down there?"

Fred walked over, apparently not returning George's qualms about touching, swinging an arm around George's shoulders. There was no weight there, but the cool contact along his shoulders and back was comforting, nonetheless. He allowed himself to relax a bit as Fred answered, "Being her usual barmy self, what else?"

The banter was coming quickly now. "But we like barmy, Fred."

"That we do, Georgie-boy!"

"Should I go talk to her?"

"Absolutely, but first you need my blessing." He waited until George faced him fully before placing his hands on both shoulders and donning a solemn look. "This is the witch of our dreams. I've lived out my days, successfully accomplishing my life goal to never take anything too seriously, and have found a band of mates over here that are going to make the wait until you decide to join me rather tolerable. The Marauders, George! But I'm getting off track…where was I? Ah, yes. Hermione. We've both fancied her for years now. Don't let me being gone take away your chance for happiness, George. You won't see me, but I'll always be here, watching over you."

George's breathing was laboured, the impending goodbye drawing ever nearer. "I'd rather have you."

"True as that may be now, the hurt will get easier. The years will go quickly, and then you can come wreak havoc with Padfoot, Prongs, Moony, and me. Whaddya say, George? Take care of our girl? Love her? Make a proper family? Maybe name a little bub with crazy red curls Fred?"

That did George in, and he sobbed, shoulders heaving with his cries. He shook his head yes and no at the same time, so confused and broken and hopeful all at once. "I don't know how to be the lonely half of a whole, Fred."

Fred looked like he would have cried right along with him if he'd still been capable of tears, but his answer was firm. "You'll never be alone." Lighting up with the look that meant he had an absolutely brilliant idea, he asked, "Think you have one last prank left in you?"

George huffed a watery sound of indignation. "I always do, and you know it, you git." The laugh he attempted to follow up his statement was weak, but it still made them both feel a little better.

"You go first. Let's have a bit of fun with a Granger before the two of you ride off into the sunset, eh?"

George went down the stairs first, at Fred's prompting. He had always been the one to initiate the jokes in life, and that hadn't changed after his death.

By the time George made his way outside, Hermione was perched on the bench in the garden, hands gripping the seat on either side of her until her knuckles turned white. He cleared his throat as he stepped out onto the porch, hoping to alert her to his presence without startling her.

It didn't work.

Jumping, she spun around, wand brandished and ready to fight. George quickly raised his hands in the sign of forfeit, hoping it wasn't too dark for her to see who it was with only the light of the moon shining down on them.

Lowering her wand, she gasped, "George! You nearly gave me a heart attack. Are you alright?"

He smiled, the most confusing mix of happiness, affection, and an unbearable amount of impending pain blending in his chest to choke him. It took him a moment to manage speech. "I'm better than I was earlier. What are you doing out here?" he waved a hand around the garden, causing her to blush.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I wanted to help earlier but didn't know what to say. Then I was distracted when everyone left, and just… I just wanted to tell you I'm sorry for your loss."

"And what loss would that be, Granger?" Fred asked with his trademark lopsided grin upon his pale face. Ever one to make a dramatic entrance, he'd skipped the door and walked straight through the wall, probably giving Hermione the heart attack that had threatened a few moments earlier if the look of shock on her face was anything to go by. She put a shaky hand to her mouth, and George followed the urge to walk over and hold her other hand, Fred standing across from both of them. George pulled Hermione back down onto the bench, never letting her hand escape his own.

"Look, Granger, it's time we had a talk," Fred continued. "My brother and I have fancied you for years now. We left the ball in your court, and you waited a beat too long to do anything about it." He paced back and forth in front of the bench as if giving a lecture to naughty students. "Now, as sad as you must be to have missed out on the chance to snog the more attractive of the Weasley twins," he paused at George's sound of indignation, "this at least makes the choice a bit easier for you. Georgie here is still a right fantastic bloke, and extremely fit. He has promised, upon threat of being haunted for life, that he will treat you right," of course George had done no such thing, but it was true enough, "and that you will name your first son Fred. Are those terms agreeable to you?"

Hermione started laughing, starting with quiet giggles that quickly turned to hysterical laughter. She wiped tears from her face with her free hand, squeezing George's fingers with the other. "I think I can do that. Isn't it a bit early to talk about children and things, though?"

"It's never too early to say yes to a good thing," Fred reasoned.

George had honestly never realised his brother could be such a good wingman. He might have expected this behaviour from Bill or Charlie, but Fred had more or less just proposed to the witch for him!

Even more unbelievable, George was pretty sure she'd just said yes.

They talked long into the night, neither Hermione nor George having the heart to tell Fred that he was gradually fading away. When he was nothing more than a gossamer glint of fog in the moonlight, he stopped his theatrics, a sad smile on his face. "It's about time for me to go, lovebirds." He turned to address Hermione. "Take good care of my brother, will you?"

Tears blurring her vision, Hermione nodded. "I promise."

XxxX

They never saw Fred again, though George could have sworn he heard his twin's laughter during his life's more amusing moments. The day George blew up the back half of the shop experimenting was the first such occasion, but many more followed. A particularly exuberant burst of laughter showered over them as George and Hermione exchanged their first kiss as husband and wife, followed by a whoop of victory that was nearly lost in the clapping and cheers of the crowd. Though there wasn't a dry eye in the room when Hermione gave birth to their first child, a little boy with a mop of curly red peach fuzz atop his head and his mother's chocolate eyes, George thought he heard an extra set of sniffles and a murmured, "Don't forget, I'm your favourite uncle, Mini-Fred."

The glimpses through the veil came less and less often as the years went on, but Fred was far from forgotten. An enchanted painting of him hung in the shop, and he kept customers on their toes with his jokes, convincing the occasional daring young witch or wizard to pull a prank on George when his back was turned.

George decided not to live in the flat after that, so he went home until he and Hermione got serious enough to want their own place. They bought a home down the street from Harry and Ginny in Godric's Hollow, a cosy cottage that housed countless happy memories over the years.

And when George passed on in his old age, a few months after Hermione, he was surrounded by friends and family. He didn't close his eyes until he spotted a familiar mop of shaggy red hair and his twin's easy grin. Hermione stood behind him, suddenly in her prime once more.

And just like in the storybooks, George closed his eyes and welcomed death as an old friend.

Or perhaps, more accurately, a brother.


End file.
